


A Smallville Christmas Carol

by Sarah1281



Series: Sarah's Christmas Carol stories [7]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Season/Series 02, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:33:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/pseuds/Sarah1281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lionel Luthor hates Christmas. He's also, sadly, doomed. Can a Christmas Carol experience turn his life around before he destroys himself, his son, and everyone around them? Takes place during second season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lionel Luthor hated Christmas. That didn't really come as a surprise to any who knew him, but he hadn't always. In the past, it had been the one time of year where he could actually take a break from the ruthless corporate world and remind himself that at the end of the day he had a family who didn't always need him to be perfect.

He snorted. Family. He hadn't had a family since Alexander had murdered little Julian in a jealous rage. He had covered it up, of course, how could he not? Lillian had never recovered from the loss of the son she had only begun to connect to and had died only months later, leaving Lex his only heir. Well, his only legitimate heir. There was always Lucas, the son of that deranged nurse, but no legal heir of his would be a bastard. There was also the option of remarrying but he hadn't seen the point since he still had Lex. 

After all, one Lillian had been quite enough and he wanted free reign to craft the perfect successor.

Of course, Lex – whose fault it all was in the first place – hadn't taken kindly to that and had spent eight entire years in an adolescent rebellion that had taken up far too much of his time and money to clean up. Fortunately, Lionel's last-ditch effort to keep his son out of the way by sending him to Smallville had yielded…interesting results. Far from running the failing plant into the ground, Lex had actually managed to make it thrive. And then foiled his attempt to close the plant down to force him back to Metropolis. Still, at least there was no cocaine involved this time. And that annoying reporter that had been prying into their affairs had mysteriously disappeared, which was even better.

Still, his son was becoming too ambitious for his own good and it looked like he was trying to take Lionel's place long before he was ready to let go. And now there was the situation with the Kawatche Caves. Lex claimed his only interest was that of a preserver and benefactor, but Lionel knew better. Lex had clearly been to the caves and seen something that had motivated this sudden interest. Something that, unless he missed his guess, had something to do with the mysterious Clark Kent.

Clark Kent. Now that was an explosive situation. He was the best friend of his son and the son of Martha and Jonathon. Jonathon wouldn't hesitate to spread the word if he even suspected Lionel of doing something to endanger him and God knows that would destroy any chance he might have had with Martha. Of course, Jonathon's current existence was already doing that quite nicely, but Jonathon was a farmer and constantly surrounded by the danger represented by his son and the meteor fragments. In all probability, he would not make it to old age. While he would like to speed the process up, he couldn't take the risk of being found out. While he knew he'd be able to buy his way out of prison, he would never be able to buy himself back into Martha's good graces.

So instead he focused on the problem of the Caves, which was why he was in Smallville standing in front of his son's plant manager, Gabe Sullivan, on Christmas Eve.

"I need information and I need it now," Lionel said coldly.

"I-I'm not quite sure what you're asking, Mr. Luthor," Sullivan stuttered.

"Don't play coy; you know EXACTLY what I'm after," Lionel retorted. Why did pawns always have to be so difficult? Couldn't they just accept that they were inconsequential and just do what he asked so he did not have to waste his valuable time on them and didn't feel obligated to destroy their lives when he was through with them?

Sullivan didn't say anything.

Lionel sighed. He hated to spell things out in case an office was bugged but luckily he had had the foresight to have Sullivan's office swept for bugs before he set foot in there. And found three. Lex really was becoming quite paranoid, wasn't he? It made him quite proud, really.

"I want you to forward me all the details regarding the Kawatche Caves. Every success, every failure, every discovery, injury, death, ect. Whatever you know, I want to know."

"And if I refuse?" Sullivan asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

Lionel smiled. "No one refuses me, Sullivan. Not if they care about their career, their children, their children's careers…Not to mention, of course, that I still own the bank."

"Are you threatening me?" Sullivan demanded.

"Are you surprised?" Lionel answered the query with one of his own. "I expect the first report to be on my desk no later than eight o'clock Thursday."

"Th-that's two days from now," Sullivan protested.

"So it is."

"But tomorrow's Christmas!" the hapless plant manager pointed out.

"I fail to see how that should inhibit you from putting together a report," Lionel told him.

"I've taken Christmas off every year since Chloe was born."

"So you would have had fifteen or so Christmas's off and are more than due to work one," the billionaire responded.

"But I've stressed to your son how important it was that I take Christmas off every year when he wanted me to come in last Christmas. If I suddenly change my mind about working, he'll know that something's going on."

Lionel rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed again. "Very well. But make sure it's on my desk by seven on Friday."

"I will," Sullivan vowed as Lionel left the room.

\- -

"Another surprise inspection?" Lex asked from behind him. "Wouldn't that be somewhat more effective if you weren't blind?"

Lionel hadn't actually been blind for weeks, but there was really no need to tell Lex this. The minute Lex knew, he'd be much more careful about his private documents and that would make it harder for Lionel to keep tabs on him.

"I just came by to wish you a Merry Christmas, son," he lied smoothly.

Lex snorted. "Oh please. You haven't celebrated Christmas since I was twelve."

"Celebrating Christmas is a waste of time and money. Merely wishing someone a Merry Christmas is simply a cursory greeting and tends to make the hearer in a more charitable and thus more manageable mood as they are reminded of the holidays," Lionel informed him.

"Good to know. Since you're not actually going to celebrate Christmas for the tenth year in a row I'm going to be at the Kents'. I would say that you'd be welcome to join us, but I can't promise that Mr. Kent won't try to shoot you on sight. With your blindness and the odds of Mrs. Kent not being in the room…I wouldn't risk it."

"Your concern it touching," Lionel replied dryly. "But go, enjoy yourself, you'll see that I'm right soon enough. Christmas is just one big waste of time."

\- -

That night, Lionel sat alone in his study – well, Lex's study, really, but it was his house – sipping scotch and pondering how to spend the next day. Everyone was always so reluctant to do business on December 25th and so he was always at a loss as to what to do until the annual Luthor Christmas party began at eight. And this year even Lex had found something to do so he couldn't even spend his Christmas spoiling Lex's. That was very vexing. Perhaps he could give Victoria a call? Now there was a thought…

Lionel's musings were interrupted by the flickering of the lights. He glanced at the window; the sky was dark but clear. Maybe something was wrong with the generator. He really should get someone to investigate.

"Lionel," a voice to his left said quietly.

Lionel jumped. He hadn't heard that voice in years, but he'd recognize it anywhere. "Robert Queen." He turned to face the voice and saw that it was indeed his old friend, looking much the same as he had the last time Lionel had seen him, albeit transparent. "I haven't seen you since-"

"You sabotaged my plane?" Robert supplied.

"I was going to say since 1989, but I suppose that works, too," Lionel said casually. He eyed the glass in his hand. "I didn't realize Lex had taken to drugging the scotch." Although whether it was for himself as a throwback to his wilder days or just to annoy his father, Lionel couldn't tell.

"Your scotch isn't drugged," Robert told him patiently.

Lionel snorted. "Brilliant. My drugged-scotch-induced hallucination insists that there is nothing wrong with my scotch."

Robert looked flustered, "Or, well, at least I'm not aware that your scotch has been drugged."

"You might have a point there," Lionel said thoughtfully.

Robert brightened.

"He could have dosed my food," Lionel concluded.

Queen's face fell again. "Why can't you just accept that I'm a ghost?"

"Because I don't believe in ghosts," Lionel answered promptly.

"Why not?" the ex-CEO demanded. "You believe in everything else that goes on in this God-forsaken town."

"True," Lionel conceded. "But that can all be explained by the meteors." He paused. "Or Clark Kent. I'm not quite sure which yet."

"Can't you just think that my being here is a result of the meteors and move on so I can talk to you about why I'm here?" Robert pleaded.

"Of course, that explains everything!" Lionel exclaimed. "You're a hallucination brought on by the meteor fragments Lex drugged my scotch with!"

Robert just stared at him. "You're…really paranoid about your son, aren't you?"

Lionel shrugged. "Well, maybe if it hadn't taken fifteen minutes for him to decide to save me after that tornado struck, I wouldn't have to be."

"I'm sure that didn't help matters any, but you've always been paranoid, Lionel," Robert offered. "That's why you had Laura and I killed."

"Ah yes, Laura. How is she, anyway?" Lionel inquired.

"Dead," Robert said flatly.

"So sorry about that whole affair. It was strictly business, you understand."

Robert stared at him. "No you're not. I bet you completely forgot about me until I showed up here."

"Which is why my first thought was 'my son drugged the scotch' and not 'product of a guilt-ridden mind," Lionel explained patiently. "Now, while catching up has been just delightful, you said you were here for a reason?"

"Right," Robert cleared his throat. "You are doomed, Lionel."

"Doomed?" Lionel repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Doomed," Queen confirmed.

"That's good to know. Awfully kind of you to give me the heads up. Now, if you don't mind, I've got to go find a different bottle of scotch…" Lionel muttered, heading for the door.

"I'm not done yet," Robert called after him.

"Oh? You propose to give me details?" Lionel asked, sticking his head back in the room.

"Yes," Robert said, exasperated. "I didn't come here for my health you know; I came for yours."

"Is someone going to poison me? Someone like Le-"

"Your son is not going to try and kill you!" Robert shouted. He paused. "Well, not for a few more years, at least."

"That does nothing to ease my paranoia, you know," Lionel informed him.

"Oh, you'll be fine. Now listen, I've already used up most of my time quibbling with you, so I'll just say this: apparently the higher-ups don't like what Fate has planned for you and so are planning an intervention. A kind of Christmas Carol experience, if you will. Of course, I'm thoroughly convinced that you're a lost cause, but apparently the higher-ups want to throw that Kent kid a bone and have decided that they're going to give you a chance to redeem yourself because of it."

"There are meteor gods?" Lionel deadpanned. And again, Clark Kent was involved. Everywhere he looked Martha's son was there, even in his hallucinations, it seemed! Seriously, he was beginning to suspect that he was obsessed with the kid. Kind of like Lex was, but with much less sexual tension.

Robert threw up his hands. "I can see that I am wasting my time here. There will be three ghosts who come after me, one at one, two, and three. I hope that you'll at least take them seriously, for all of our sakes."

And with that, he vanished, leaving Lionel alone with his thoughts and his probably-drugged scotch.

\- -

"Lionel…" a quiet voice called out, awakening the sleeping Luthor at once.

"Who's there?" Lionel asked, pulling his handgun out from underneath his pillow.

"Lionel…" the voice called again.

Cautiously, Lionel crept out of his room and down the hallway. The voice seemed to be coming from Lex's study. When he reached it, he stopped dead at the sight. There was a solid figure there, pouring itself a glass of scotch. He used the word 'it' because it was impossible to tell if it were a man or woman, or even if they were young or old. He groaned. Clearly this was a transvestite who'd gotten Botox.

He forced himself to smile, fingering his weapon. He was a little disturbed, but reasoned that being a little creeped out wasn't worth the cover-up that would need to happen if he just outright shot the intruder. "One of Lex's friends, I presume?"

The figure just shook its head slowly. "I am here for you, Lionel. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

Lionel frowned. 'Ghost of Christmas Past.' That was an interesting hooker name. For, of course, what else could it possibly be dressed like that in his – Lex's – study in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve? He'd have to remember to fire his secretary in the morning. Honestly, what was she thinking when she booked THIS for him?

"You don't believe I'm real," the Ghost said, clearly misinterpreting Lionel's silence.

"Honestly, that thought hadn't even occurred to me. Although that would be a lot more palatable…" Lionel trailed off, realizing that perhaps he wouldn't have to fire his secretary after all. He hoped he wouldn't; she was very discrete and that was hard to come by these days.

"I have much to show you," the Ghost said, moving closer.

"That's…quite alright," Lionel insisted, backing up. He had absolutely no desire to see any part of the Ghost it wished to show him. Lex probably did send him, just to piss him off. It would be so typical of him.

"There is a journey we must go on." It. Was. Still. Moving. Closer! "Touch my robe and we can go. We only have an hour." It gestured towards the window.

Lionel's eyes widened. "Wait…you don't actually expect me to walk out of a window with you, do you? Because I'm not sure what you've heard, but I am NOT suicidal."

"That is why you must touch my robe. So you can fly," the Ghost explained calmly.

"Oh, if that's all…" Lionel muttered. "Look, I don't care how high you are, you cannot fly. Therefore, I am not leaving this study."

The Ghost looked ruefully at him. "But your redemption-"

"Would go a lot better if I didn't fall and break my neck," Lionel finished. "God knows that if that happened, Alexander would have control of LuthorCorp approximately two minutes after my fall."

The Ghost sighed. "I see I'm going to have to do this the hard way."

"The hard way? What do you mean the…Ah!" Lionel couldn't help but cry out as the Ghost took a hold of his arm and they began to drift out the window. Hm, maybe he shouldn't have discounted the possibility of this being a continuation of his meteor-induced hallucination from earlier after all. Yes, his secretary's job was definitely safe. In fact, he might just give her a bonus for never arranging someone like this for him.

Abruptly, they landed. Lionel quickly looked around. He appeared to be in the Suicide Slums. That was bad enough. The fact that this was a Suicide Slum pre-LuthorCorp renovation was even worse. And was he just imagining things or was the tenant building his parents lived in still standing? God, he hadn't dreamed of this place since…well, ever.

"This is your fifth Christmas," the Ghost informed him.

"Is it?" Lionel asked disinterestedly. "Does that mean that my parents are still around?"

The Ghost nodded. "Follow me," it said before walking straight through the wall of one of the buildings.

Lionel eyed the spot the ghost had disappeared through warily. Just because he could fly when The Ghost was touching him – not like that – in this dream didn't mean he'd be able to walk through walls without it. He put a hand on the wall experimentally. It went straight through. He shrugged. Well, alright then.

Heading through the wall and up the stairs, he quickly found his apartment. Where he'd lived for every hellish year some called his childhood and teenage years.

He looked around. He saw his mother, sitting in a corner, desperately clutching a bottle of gin. He saw himself, merely a child, walk up to her, his eyes full of trepidation. He was clutching a book.

"Will you read to me, Mommy?" he asked quietly.

Eliza Luthor just stared at him blankly. It was as she couldn't see him, like she was looking right through him.

"Mommy, please. It's Christmas," the young Lionel pleaded.

Her eyes flickered slightly. "Go…go ask your father," she managed to get out before her eyes clouded over again.

Little Lionel looked fearfully at the next room where he knew his father resided. His father was more likely to be sober, but also heavily inclined towards violence. He took several halting steps away from his mother and then abruptly spun around to face her. "Please, Mommy, please!" he begged, tugging at her arm.

Eliza didn't respond, just sat there, impassive and immobile. Looking dejected, the young Luthor headed back to his father's room.

"Father?" he called, his voice even softer than usual.

"Eh, go away, kid, I'm busy," came the growled response.

Lionel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't move. "I…I wanted to know if you could…if you could…"

The figure of his father flew at him, backhanding him across the room. "I SAID not now, Lionel."

Lionel nodded, fearfully, and fled the room. Once he reached his room, he slammed the door behind him and started sobbing. His mother hadn't reacted in the slightest.

"Every year was just the same in this place," the Ghost said softly.

"Yes, but I soon learned better than to expect anything from them," the adult Lionel said, his eyes hard. "And whatever kind of 'lesson' you think you're teaching me, show me another scene of this place and I swear, I won't learn a thing."

The Ghost hesitated slightly; it had clearly planned on pushing its point home by displaying on montage of the years as they went by. Finally, it nodded. "Come with me."

This time, Lionel didn't hesitate before grabbing onto the Ghost's arm. He had seen more than enough to remind him why he'd never regretted arranging the deaths of his parents.  
The room blurred around him and just as he was starting to get dizzy, the scene solidified. He was now in Morgan's apartment. He glared at the Ghost. He wasn't in his apartment, but he was right down the street and the Ghost had blatantly violated the spirit, if not the letter, of their deal.

"Are you sure about this Lionel?" Morgan Edge asked nervously. He was never nervous. "I mean, I know your folks are pretty crummy, but…murder? Really?"

"I'm positive, Morgan," Lionel's younger self's voice was laced with impatience. "I increased their life insurance policy last year and if we split the money we'll actually be able to go somewhere. If we don't, we'll be stuck in the Suicide Slums forever and we'll eventually turn into our parents."

"There's nothing wrong with my parents," Morgan said defensively.

Lionel sighed. "Yes, yes, they're great people. On the other hand, are they happy? No. They work long hours every day and are never home. Do you want that kind of life for yourself? Do THEY want that kind of life for you?"

"Well, no, but I-" Morgan began.

"It's not like you haven't destroyed buildings before; I don't see what the problem is," the soon-to-be-orphaned Luthor cut him off.

"I know I've dabbled in arson and building demolitions – and there have been casualties – but I've never actually set out to kill anyone," Edge said desperately.

"Your first murder couldn't be to two more deserving people," Lionel said persuasively. "Trust me. Everything will be fine."

Morgan bit his lip and looked hard at his childhood friend. "Alright."

"Because of you, Morgan Edge started his foray into the criminal underworld and soon abandoned any and all reservations about taking lives," the Ghost said accusingly.

Lionel inspected a nail. "I don't regret it. My parents never did anything so valuable in their lives than die and if it weren't for my actions, Morgan and I would still be there. We've risen above our circumstances and I don't have anything to apologize for. I made my choices and Morgan made his. While you clearly…disapprove of his rise as a crime lord, he could have turned away from that and started a business like I did or…go and settle down somewhere comfortably middle class or something."

"You murdered your parents and you don't care?" the Ghost asked, shocked.

"No."

The Ghost stared at him uncomprehendingly. Finally, it just shook its head and held out its arm. "Come."

Lionel growled as he did as he was told. He did not need to be judged by this bizarre transvestite whore. Additionally, these particular moments in his life were not some of his finer.

Then, he was standing in a great hall decorated grandly in true Yule fashion. His eyes quickly scanned the crowd, looking for the hosts and thus his explanation. Edward Teague. 

This was one of his and Genevieve's earliest Christmas parties if not their earliest. He, of course, had not started hosting an elaborate gala for the holidays until after he married Lillian.

Speaking of, she was probably here somewhere. Not wanting to ask about his late wife directly and thus expose weakness, he turned to the Ghost and casually asked, "So, where am I?"

The Ghost pointed to the right and Lionel followed its hand to see himself about to bump into Lillian. Literally. He was bidding a potential ally adieu and she was talking animatedly to a friend of hers not five feet away. He turned to leave at the exact moment she did and they collided.

"Pardon," he said, smiling at her.

"Oh, I should have been watching where I was going," she returned, also smiling.

"Lionel!" Genevieve called out. "I see you've met my cousin Lillian. I've been meaning to introduce you."

"Lionel, is it? It's nice to meet you," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

He took it and kissed it instead. "The pleasure's all mine."

Lionel wanted to stay and watch his younger self and his future – late, whichever – wife getting acquainted, but he felt a tug at his elbow.

"Come," the Ghost said. "We have two more memories to view and not much time."

Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away from his first meeting with Lillian and grabbed ahold of the Ghost's sleeve.

Once again, the room started spinning the moment his hand made contact with the Ghost and he immediately closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was standing in a fancy Italian restaurant.

"I haven't been here in years," Lionel mused aloud. "Where is my past self?"

Wordlessly, the Ghost gestured to the private room in the back.

Lionel chuckled. He should have known. As he headed back there, he saw himself seated across the table from Lillian. Neither of them looked particularly happy.

"What do you want me to say?" the younger Lionel asked, frustrated. "Business is business and will always take up large chunks of my time. I thought you understood that."

"I do, Lionel," Lillian was quick to reassure him. "Believe me, I do."

"Then what's with this sudden desire to rush the wedding? If you're afraid that I'll lose interest in you, I can assure you that won't be the case."

"It's not that either," she continued. "But I'm just saying that sooner is better than later as far as our wedding is concerned."

"I just don't have time right now to plan out a lavish affair," Lionel told her.

"I can plan it, I can hire people to plan it, we can just forego a lavish wedding altogether for all I care, we just need to get married within the next few weeks," Lillian told him desperately.

Lionel narrowed his eyes at her. "If this is an ultimatum-"

Lillian cut him off. "I'm pregnant."

"Then I can assure you, I…What?" Lionel asked blankly.

"I'm pregnant," Lillian repeated a little giddily. "And I know we didn't intend to have children this quickly, but it is what it is and so we have to get married soon before little Alexander gets here."

"Alexander?" Lionel said thoughtfully. "It's a boy, then?"

Lillian nodded. "Do you not like the name? Because it's just a suggestion, though I've always wanted to have a son with that name."

"Alexander," Lionel said again, trying it out. "Like Alexander the Great. I like it."

Lillian smiled. "I'm glad."

"We can be married within two months," Lionel promised.

Her smile widened and she leaned across the table to kiss him.

Another tug at the widowed Lionel's arm.

"Must we leave so soon?" he demanded. "We were so happy back then. Having a baby was the best thing that ever happened to us. Sure we had problems after that, but things would have gotten better once Lillian started bonding with Julian. Everything would have been perfect if only Lex hadn't…" he trailed off, unable to vocalize his son's horrifying fratricide.

"There is one more memory you must see," the Ghost said quietly, urgently.

Halfheartedly, Lionel reached out once more for the Ghost's sleeve.

The next room he was in was a room he knew well. He was in the hall of the house Julian had died in. He had sold it within a week of the incident and being back there made him uneasy.

He didn't see himself immediately, but he did see Lex. It was clearly after the meteor shower and he was smiling – a rarity once he lost his hair and even rarer once he lost his brother and mother – and carrying a tray up the stairs. Julian began to cry and he turned his head toward the sound. He continued to walk slowly so as not to spill anything on the tray when the sound of Julian's wailing got louder.

Clearly, Lionel wasn't there or else he would already be at his son's side and Lord knows Lillian was never up to soothing her youngest child. Where were the servants, though? Was this after he had ordered Lillian to bond with her son?

A look of panic crossed Lex's face and he threw the tray down on a table in the hall and ran up to Julian's room. Lionel followed him and saw Lillian standing over the crib. Apparently she had started to bond with him after all. Anger he'd long since repressed began to eat at him again. Why had Lex decided murdering his little brother had been a good idea? Why? The stress of the situation and Julian's loss had pushed Lillian to an early grave and then there was no chance of them having another child. He'd turned to Rachel Dunleavy, but she was unbalanced and her son was a sociopath so he wasn't about to announce Lucas's existence to the world.

"Mom?" Lex asked hesitantly. He looked afraid. What was he afraid of? He was the one who had actually killed the baby. Lex waited a moment, but Lillian didn't reply. "Mom?" he repeated, more urgently this time.

Lillian turned around, holding a pillow. The pillow fell to the floor at approximately the same time Lionel's legs gave out under him. What…a pillow…what…she couldn't…but she had a pillow…

Lex stared at the pillow then looked back up at his mother. He walked slowly into the room. "What'd you do?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. He had already figured it out.

"Shh," the love of Lionel's life put her finger to her mouth and stumbled toward his firstborn son. "Don't wake the baby. He's sleeping," she said, slightly hysterical. As she got closer, Lionel could see the dazed smile on her face and the tears on her cheeks.

"No…" Lionel gasped. "No…Lillian…Lillian could never…But Lex! I saw Lex…No…"

Lillian took Lex's hands, but Lex brushed past her to go stare down into the crib. "No…" he whispered. "No…" He turned to face his mother, fear evident in his eyes. "What about dad?" his voice was trembling again.

Lillian stood still for a moment, lost, then she began to shush Lex again and moved towards him. "Dad has nothing to worry about, sweetheart," she assured him, rubbing his head and kissing his forehead. "Julian's happy now," she insisted, a sob in her voice.

Lex could only shake his head as Lillian walked away from him and staggered out into the hall. He watched her go then turned back to the corpse of his little brother. "No…" he whispered desperately.

Watching the son he'd spent the last ten years resenting crying over the dead little brother he'd never been able to get over was too much for Lionel. He turned away from his sons and glared accusingly at the ghost. "What is this?" he demanded angrily. "Why would Lex have taken the blame if it was Lillian who…who…" He couldn't finish.

"What did you do when you discovered Lex standing over the body?" the Ghost asked, patiently.

"I…I covered it up, what else could I do?" Lionel was confused.

"Because it was your son and you knew that with the difficult pregnancy and this tragedy you would not be able to convince your wife to have another child if anything happened to Lex," prompted the Ghost.

"Well, yes, of course, but I don't see what-"

The Ghost interrupted him. "What would you have done if it were your wife?"

"What?"

"If you knew your wife had killed your precious baby boy, would you have saved her the way you thought you were saving your son?"

"I…I would have…I would have…No," Lionel answered finally.

"Lex knew this. That's why he did what he did."

"Then why didn't he tell me after…" Lionel swallowed. "After Lillian had died? There was no need to protect her any longer and it could have spared us so much pain. So much bitterness and hatred."

"He couldn't. Your son loved his mother. That's why he repressed the memory of his beloved and idealized mother killing an innocent child. She thought she was saving him from you, you know. She hated how you were raising Alexander and she was suffering from postpartum depression. What happened was horrible, but it is not so very surprising."

Tears were forming in Lionel's eyes but he would not allow anyone to see him cry.

"Take me home."

The Ghost nodded.

Lionel took ahold of the Ghost's sleeve for the final time and in whirlwind of swirling colors, he was home.

In Lex's study. Lex.

The Ghost was gone.

Lionel didn't even know what to think anymore about what just happened.

Stumbling over the sofa, he began to sob.


	2. Chapter 2

Lionel Luthor awoke with a start at the sound of Christmas music playing. And what's more – it was modern Christmas music. How tacky. Climbing to his feet, he winced at the crick in his neck. He must have fallen asleep on Lex's sofa and while that was a reasonably comfortable place to sit, it was nowhere near adequate as a bed.

Come to think of it, why in the world would there be modern Christmas music playing in the first place? He knew Lex sometimes had bouts of insomnia, but the Luthor men had always shared a hatred for the tripe that passed as pop culture today and none of the servants would have dared to do anything of the sort. Not to mention the improbability of an intruder taking the time to alert the whole household to his presence while he went about his business of robbing and/or kidnapping them.

No, there really was nothing for it but to investigate. Reluctantly, Lionel crept down the hall and towards the source of the music. Reaching the room the music seemed to be emanating from (although he could not for the life of him locate the source), he looked around cautiously. He appeared to be in the kitchen, though, of course, he had never actually stepped foot in that room before. There was also a tall, thick man in a green fur coat surrounded by mounds of food.

"Oy!" he called out upon spotting Lionel. "Come and know me better, man!"

"I'm fine here," Lionel replied, shuddering to think at what the giant meant by that. He was also clearly drunk. "I think I'm safe in assuming that you are one of Lex's friends?"

The giant looked confused. "I don't think so. But then, I know so very many people, it's difficult to keep track of."

Particularly when you're drunk, Lionel decided. "Is there any reason you're in my house if you do not know my son? Surely you're not one of the workers?"  
To his surprise, the giant began to laugh. "Oh, no man. I am the Ghost of Christmas Present."

Lionel had to stop himself from flinching. This one didn't look to be from the red light district like the other but the similar name was enough to send his mind hurtling back to ten years ago, to the crib, to Julian…

"And why are you here?" Lionel asked, forcing himself to focus.

"For your welfare," the giant replied.

Lionel snorted. "My 'welfare' would best be served by not having all of your little friends barging in at all hours of the night dredging up memories that best lay in the past and to just leave me be."

"For your salvation, then," came the new answer.

"I don't recall soliciting any aid for my soul," Lionel shot back sourly.

"Ah, but Christmas is a time for giving!" the giant insisted.

"The best gift of all would be some peace and quiet and maybe a good night's sleep," Lionel countered.

The giant just shook his head. "I don't understand you. We really should be going, though; I'd rather not spend the rest of my life arguing about whether or not you need to experience Christmas again, if it's all the same to you."

"I hardly think you'd have to spend the rest of you life-" Lionel began.

"Spirits have different lifespans than humans," the giant explained. "And mine ends at the stroke of midnight December 26th."

"Planning on killing yourself?"

The giant ignored him and held out his arm. "Come, we have much to see."

Rolling his eyes in a gesture of annoyance, Lionel grabbed ahold of his sleeve and they were off.

\- -

"Where are we?" Lionel asked, looking at the unfamiliar neighborhood with interest. It was perfectly middle-class but he had no idea if this was in Smallville or even Kansas.

"This is the home of your employee, Gabe Sullivan," the giant said gravely.

Lionel racked his brain, trying to remember who that was. Wasn't he…no, it was gone again. "I see," he said finally.

"You've never been here," the giant noted.

"I try to make it a habit of never going to the house of anyone who doesn't have money," Lionel explained. "It makes me feel ill."

"Well, you're just going to have to deal with it, because we're going inside," the giant told him firmly as he walked straight through the wall.

"Why me?" Lionel muttered before following him in.

Three people were sitting around a table laden with food: two teenagers – one blonde, one Asian – and a man Lionel vaguely recalled as being the plant manager he had threatened the day before. That must be Gabe Sullivan. Sullivan and the girl Lionel guessed to be his daughter were in the middle of an argument while the Asian girl looked on awkwardly.

"What do you mean you have to go into work tomorrow?" the blonde demanded angrily. "You always take the week off, from Christmas to New Year's. Always!"

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just be glad we get to have Christmas together," Sullivan reassured her.

"Last year, Lex wanted you to work but it was all fine when Clark explained the situation to him," the blonde said. "Why can't he just explain it again?"

Sullivan sighed. "It's not your friend, Chloe, and you can't confront him about it; he doesn't know."

Chloe sat there, confused for a moment. "Lionel Luthor?" she seethed once realization had dawned on her.

When Sullivan didn't answer, she continued, "Hasn't he done enough? He plays games with the jobs of thousands of workers, puts innocent high school students at risk because he won't 'negotiate with hostage-takers', shut down the plant and put half the town out of work because he had to have a little pissing contest with Lex, uses Smallville residents as lab rats, left Clark to rescue Lex from that deranged ex-nurse who thought Clark was her son, and you know what? I bet he's not even really blind."

Lionel nearly choked at that. She'd managed to list most of what he'd been up to in Smallville recently, quite impudently, and she'd figured out his secret. Fortunately for him, most people were a bit more…trusting that she was. If she really spent time with his son, though, that could be problematic.

"That's…quite a rant, there, and I'm not saying you're wrong – except about that last part – but I think you're scaring Lana," Sullivan said soothingly.

Lionel looked over at the Asian girl, Lana, apparently, whose eyes were as big as saucers. She clearly didn't like it when the people around her were fighting.

"He…Mr. Luthor…he didn't really do all of that, did he?" she asked shakily.

Clearly the things in Chloe's rant were not public knowledge. Thank goodness for small mercies, at least.

"If…" she began finally. "If you hang around with Clark and, by extension, Lex as much as I do, you see things."

"Either way," Sullivan tried to cheer her up. "As you said, without him, half the town would be unemployed, so I propose a toast to the Luthor family."

Chloe just stared at him in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me. You're right; if they shut down now, Smallville would be screwed, but if LuthorCorp had never opened, people would have found different jobs. You can't possibly expect me to toast to him."

"Chloe, dear, it's Christmas," Sullivan pleaded.

She sighed. "Oh, fine. I hope he has a Merry fucking Christmas surrounded by friends, family, and warmth."

Lionel could feel the sincerity dripping off her words.

"Chloe!" Sullivan scolded, shocked.

"What?" she asked innocently as Lana stifled a laugh.

"Come," the giant tugged on Lionel's arm.

"By all means," Lionel said, taking a hold of the giant's robe and closing his eyes. "Let's try for somewhere a little less openly hostile towards me this time. You know, in the spirit   
of Christmas."

The giant nodded. "Very well."

When Lionel opened his eyes again, he was on a farm. "Really? I mean, I know I can rub people the wrong way, but you have to go all the way to the middle of nowhere to find people who don't outright hate me? Have these people even heard of me?"

"I'd say that's a safe bet," the giant said, sounding distinctly amused.

"There'd better be somewhere to sit down inside," Lionel grumbled. "The clear lack of money is making me shaky." As he headed inside, he was nearly run over by a silver Porsche (or would have been if he weren't currently insubstantial). "Lex!" he shouted automatically. He'd had a couple of close counters with a few of Lex's cars over the years. When he got a look at the driver he could see that it was, indeed, his son. "Wait…" he paused, turning to the giant. "Does this mean I'm at the Kents'?"

At the giant's nod, he groaned. He would have to endure seeing their entirely unhealthy wholesomeness. On the bright side, this meant he got to see Martha. Unfortunately, that meant that Jonathan would be there as well, practically hanging off his wife. Not, of course, like Lionel could blame him, but still…

Lionel followed his son up the front door and was startled when the door flew open before Lex had even reached it.

"Lex! Glad you could make it!" Clark Kent said enthusiastically, pulling him in.

"I said I'd be here, didn't I?" Lex retorted.

"Well, yeah, but I was afraid you'd get tied up by business or…" Clark trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"By what, Clark?"

"Your father. I mean, I know you said he wasn't interested in the holidays, but I still thought that maybe-" the farm boy began.

"Lex!" Martha Kent greeted warmly as she entered the room, followed by her husband. "How are you?"

"Fine, Mrs. Kent," Lex smiled at her. "I was just telling Clark that he didn't need to worry about my father, he's probably spending Christmas with Victoria."

Ironically enough, that was exactly what Lionel had planned to do. Now, of course, that was completely out of the question, if only because that's what the future said he would do. Lionel didn't believe in fate and so anything he saw in the future he would feel a compulsion to do differently, just to prove that he didn't have some 'destiny' he was powerless to stop.

"V-Victoria?" Clark repeated, shocked. "Victoria like, your ex-girlfriend Victoria?"

"The one and only," Lex replied.

"But…I know that they had done things like that in the past but…wouldn't they have at least had the decency to stop once you found out about it?" Clark asked, full of wide-eyed innocence.

Lionel stared. Why would they? Having sex with Lex's girlfriend was having sex with Lex's girlfriend, regardless of whether his son happened to know about it.

"You'd think, would you?" Lex agreed, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "Last year I believe he spent the holidays working his way through the playgirl Calendar. On Christmas day when he called me I could hear Miss July in the background."

"Oh…I, well…" Clark stammered, awkwardly.

Lex smiled kindly at him. "Don't worry about it, Clark. I'm just glad you invited me."

"Well, we couldn't very well you leave alone with your father on Christmas, now could we?" Jonathan asked, a genuine smile on his face. "It's strange," he mused. "But the more time your father spends here, the more I remember how much I truly, deeply loathe him and it really makes you appreciate the billionaires you know who aren't pure evil."

Jonathan Kent was nothing if not blunt. Not that Lionel actually cared what that farmer thought of him. Any debt he'd had to him for helping Lex after the meteor shower was more than repaid when he'd given them Clark. And what happened to that famed hostility towards Lex he'd heard his son complain so much about?

"I…appreciate that. I think," Lex said with a grin.

Lionel hadn't actually expected Lex to defend him, but did he have to agree so wholeheartedly? Things between them couldn't possibly be that bad…could it?

"Come on, I want to show you something," Clark said, gesturing towards his room.

"Jonathan," Martha swatted at her husband as the pair went back into the kitchen.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I'm just welcoming Lex into our home for Christmas."

"Be nice. Remember, you may not like Lionel but he is Lex's father."

"I thought we agreed that for Clark's sake I'd try and forget that?" he reminded her.

"Still, I'm sure Lex doesn't need any more reminders of how hated his father is, especially on Christmas when his father seems to have chosen to spend the holidays...occupied otherwise," Martha said delicately. "And you could stand to be a little less vocal in your hatred for Lionel. After all, if LuthorCorp ever needs a convenient scapegoat, you're probably at the top of the list."

Lionel felt these words like a blow. Martha really thought he would do something like that? To her family? Honestly, he might very well do just that, but he still didn't want her thinking that of him.

Lionel watched impassively as his son and the Kent boy came back downstairs, as the four sat down to dinner, laughing and talking and full of so much goddamn wholesomeness that it was sickening. He definitely felt nauseous at any rate. And desperately in need of…something. Maybe he would call Victoria after all.

"Do you think your parents could adopt me?" Lex had asked jokingly at the end of the meal.

Lionel knew, of course, that he hadn't meant it and yet…it wasn't a pleasant sensation.

"I think I've seen more than enough," he snapped finally, losing his patience and turning to face the giant. To his immense surprise, the giant seemed to have aged fifty years in the last hour or so. "Are…you okay?" he asked finally, because it seemed like the sort of thing one did after one's sole companion was aging by the minute.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just dying," the giant gasped out.

"Oh, if THAT'S all," Lionel said sarcastically. "Wait…didn't you say something about this earlier?"

"You thought I was talking about suicide," the giant reminded him.

"In my defense, I've never encountered anyone who aged as quickly as you do. And you can't die!" Lionel insisted.

"I have to," the giant said gently. "It's part of the natural order."

"But you can't just strand me here; at least take me home first."

The giant looked a little disappointed; clearly he had thought the billionaire was concerned about him. That was pretty naïve of him, though, because while Lionel was perfectly capable of caring about people he knew well, such as Lex and Martha, he'd just met the giant a few hours ago.

"Don't worry," the giant told him. "One of my brothers will be along shortly. He is the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come and as his name suggests, he will show you what will occur if you continue on this destructive path you are taking."

Despite everything and the sudden feeling of trepidation that was stealing over him, Lionel was annoyed. "Again with the 'you're doomed' spiel. I already heard it from Robert."

The giant didn't answer, however, as he had faded out of existence.

"Now that is definitely the meteors at work. Probably the rapid aging, as well," Lionel mused, looking around for the next 'spirit.' And then he found it. And stared. Then he stared some more. Dear Lord, it looked like a Dementor from the Harry Potter movies. How was he supposed to take that seriously? They were children's movies, for God's sake!  
Still, he reasoned. The sooner he got through this the sooner he could go home and think. And something told him a talk with Lex was long overdue.

"You're the, er, 'Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come', then?" he inquired.

The Dementor merely nodded and held out its arm.

"Not too chatty, hm? I like that. Let's get going," Lionel said and grabbing ahold of the Dementor.

Scenes flew by him. He saw Lex finding Lucas. He saw himself kicking Lex out of the Mansion. He saw Lucas ordering him to kill Lex and himself firing at Lucas instead. He saw not being invited to Lex's next wedding. He saw Lex's plane going down. He saw weeks of searching desperately for Lex and then for his remains. He saw Lex finding out about his parents and threatening to destroy everything. He saw himself having Lex drugged, committed, and then electrocuted until the whole affair was nothing but a dream. He saw Lex dropping the bomb that Lillian had killed Julian. He saw Lex rediscovering his grandparents' murders and go to the police. He saw himself go to prison and order Lex's death – which he'd evaded, but barely. He saw himself switching bodies with Clark and discovering he possessed incredible strength, speed, and could start fires with his eyes. He saw his liver completely disease-free and getting released from jail. He saw himself completely catatonic except for the occasion symbols he drew on the floor. He saw himself meeting with Jonathan and promising to protect Clark, but Jonathon would have none of it and was getting so worked up. He saw Jonathan collapsing and Martha screaming his name over and over again. He saw Martha sobbing nonstop for days. He saw Clark confessing that he had done the day Jonathan died over, and that the first time the death had been Lana's. He saw Kent's funeral – one even he had seen fit to attend. He saw Lex marrying that Asian girl from earlier…Lana, was it? He saw his relationship with his son steadily worse while he and Clark got on increasingly better terms.

Then, everything stopped.

He saw himself, hair shorter, slowly entering an office and sitting down heavily.

"What-" Lionel began, unsure of what was happening. His future was to stay at Luthorcorp and occasionally become overwhelmed? That…was exactly what his life was like currently. If the Dementor was trying to get him to change, showing him that his life was the same wasn't going to do the trick. After all, he happened to like how his life was currently. For the most part.

"I'm sure there were moments," Lex's voice said casually. Both Lionel's looked around, confused, trying to pinpoint their son's location, "that King Arthur regretted pulling the sword from the stone," he finished, stepping into the light. "But he never gave up his quest. So why did you?"

The future-Lionel looked distinctly uncomfortable and looked around the room, as though searching for something to put his son off.

"Or have you already found the 'Traveler' that you and the less fortunate members of Veritas were looking for?"

Lionel froze. He'd actually found the Traveler? After all this time? And is sounded like the living members of Veritas had decreased even more from his own time. Probably partly because of him. And more importantly, how the hell did Lex find out?

Future Lionel, meanwhile, gasped for a moment before turning to face his son. "The Traveler?" he asked sardonically. "Why doesn't it surprise me that you've fallen for Patricia   
Swann's vivid imaginings?"

"I didn't imagine the deaths of Virgil Swann or Oliver Queen's parents," Lex countered, also stepping forward.

So Virgil was dead? Lionel wondered briefly what role he had to play in that. Or it could be a coincidence. Like the Queens' deaths were. Why had Lex been talking to the Queen heir, though? Last time he checked the boys hated each other. Something to do with little Oliver being a bully.

"You think I can control the fate of individuals?" Future-and-Clearly-Going-Soft Lionel laughed disbelievingly. Current Lionel KNEW he could control the fate of individuals. He did so on a daily basis, after all. "You give me too much credit," he said, shaking his head and walking away. This was also a shocking development. Lex, to the best of his knowledge, never gave him credit if he could help it. It was what made his attempts to gain power so amusing. And so futile, of course.

"You certainly controlled mine," Lex pointed out, quite reasonably in Lionel's opinion. Still, that was different. Lex was his son, after all, what else was he supposed to do? There weren't exactly any child-rearing books for the heirs to multi-billion dollar corporations, after all. Although there was a thought…he really should get someone to write just that when he got back. It could make a fortune.

"It wasn't an accident that we were in Smallville the day of the meteor shower, was it?" Lex accused. Kind of a stupid accusation, truth to be told. Had Lex honestly thought they had 'accidentally' landed the helicopter to do business? Really, the things he came up with sometimes… "The factory was just a cover. You were really there to meet this 'Traveler' that Veritas wanted to protect." And, well…there was that, too. But he did have legitimate business, there, he just happened to schedule it during the probable meteor shower heralding in the Traveler. Was that so wrong? "I remember everything, Dad."

"Those are the memories of a small boy in shock, trying to cope with the trauma of a meteor shower," Future-Lionel explained patiently. When had he started explaining himself to his son? This future was just bizarre.

"A trauma brought on by my own father," Lex shouted.

Lionel stared at the future version of his son, trying to decide whether or not Lex was actually trying to blame him for the meteor shower or just for taking him there. It wasn't like he had planned for Lex to have that accident, that was just a horrible side effect. And what's more, he hadn't even found the Traveler.

The two future Luthors just stared at each other for a moment before Lex reached out and grabbed his arms. "My life changed forever that day."

Lionel sighed; would Lex never let that go? True, Lex probably had a few difficult years being a bald child, but by the time he got into his mid-to-late teens, people thought a shaved head was a fashion statement. Really, none of the other children affected by the meteors were blaming their parents for ruining their lives. Now Lex looked like he was about to cry. SURELY it was about more than just a little hair loss…right?

"You sacrificed me for the Traveler," Lex continued, getting more upset by the second. Where had he drawn such an infantile conclusion, though? He never would have sacrificed his only son for the Traveler; the Traveler couldn't lead Luthorcorp after he was gone, after all. And indirectly causing Lex to go bald was not sacrificing him. Lionel was going to have to add this topic to the lengthy conversation they were already going to have about Julian.

"Why?" Lex whispered. "Who is it dad? Who is he?" And now Lex was gripping him even tighter. If Lionel didn't know better, he'd think his son was about to get violent. "Who is it?" Lex shouted again after Future-Lionel merely blinked at him.

"What if I told you now that you were the Traveler?" Future-Lionel asked quietly, sincerity radiating off of him. He was lying, of course, but Lionel was impressed at how earnest he could seem. That was a very useful skill to possess in the business world.

Lex just looked annoyed and turned away.

Future-Lionel, clearly unwilling to end the pointless charade, continued. "You're right; your life truly did change that day. I told you, in the helicopter, that you were destined for a great future." Had he? Lionel didn't recall, but he supposed that really didn't matter. After all, he'd certainly said it often enough. Although clearly not enough since Lex obviously had some sort of inferiority complex to the Traveler.

"That's why I've been so hard on you, trained you so relentlessly," Future-Lionel continued, sounding slightly desperate. Why was he desperate? Did he actually know the Traveler's identity and wanted, for some inexplicable reason, to protect him? It was probably Clark Kent, then. His feelings for Martha were the only thing that could come even remotely close to being enough to abandon his desire to use the Traveler for his own purposes. And if they'd gotten even closer after Jonathan's death…Then there was also the mysterious circumstances surrounding the boy's adoption…yes, Lionel was nearly positive that Clark Kent was indeed the Traveler. While Lionel was extremely pleased with himself for having worked the Traveler's identity out, he was also appalled that in the future he would apparently continuously feel that he had to explain himself to his son. When had that happened? "Think, Lex, think."

Lex was thinking, though, and he'd obviously seen through the story.

Future-Lionel continued to try and persuade Lex that he was somehow an alien, despite the fact that he probably wouldn't have fallen for it even when the meteors hit. Starting to get as annoyed as Lex looked, Lionel tuned out the rest of the conversation. It wasn't like anything important was going on, anyway.

"You must not open that box," Future-Lionel was insisting when Lionel tuned back in a few minutes later.

"I can't open it; I need a second key. Give it to me," Lex demanded. Maybe Lionel should have been paying attention: then he'd know what box they were talking about and how their relationship had changed so much that Lex felt comfortable giving HIM orders and not the other way around.

Future-Lionel just stood there, stunned, and didn't say anything. Lex waited for perhaps half a minute and then took brought his gun up – when had he gotten a gun? – and shot out the window behind Future-Lionel. When his future self looked back up at the gun, Lex continued to talk. "I've swept every possible place you could have hidden it." Clearly not or he would have found it, wouldn't he? Unless Lex thought he would be so foolhardy as to keep the key with him? "And I finally realize there was only one person you would have trusted it with." Now Lex had pressed the gun to his neck. "Yourself." Lex jerked the chain off of his future self's neck. Even though this wasn't really him, the shot-out window was making Lionel very nervous. Why wasn't his future self moving away from it?

Lex was wrong about the key's location, though, Lionel was sure of it. In times when he had to get rid of something important very quickly, he often gave it to someone unexpected, someone who usually had no idea what they were being given but could be trusted not to dispose of it.

"Lex," Future-Lionel began. "Lex, if you open that box, if you get ahold of that secret, there will be no redemption for you, no redemption. Ever." Well, that had got to be the least persuasive thing he had ever said. After all, if his future self knew the secret and appeared to be fine, then how could Lex instantly be damned by learning the same secret?

"I was raised in your shadow," Lex told him frankly. "Now you're going to die in mine." Wait, what? Lex wanted to KILL him? He knew that they had some disagreements in the past, but really? Resorting to murder? That seemed…well, just like him, really. But it wasn't like Lex even needed the insurance money he'd get for killing him, he just wanted a goddamn box. Maybe if he wasn't so quick to resort to killing him to get it, he might have been more open to sharing whatever secret it contained.

"No one will even remember your name," Lex said quietly as Future-Lionel stared at him in horror.

Then Lex pushed him out the window.

Lionel watched in silent horror as his future self simply fell to his doom, completely quiet, a half-smile on his face. How…this didn't even make any…what in the world could have happened? And he didn't even use one of the quotes from his patented list of possible last words?

"How far into the future is this?" Lionel demanded.

The Dementor didn't answer him.

"I mean, it can't possibly be very far, because Lex and I don't even look that much older. And how did I get so soft? Dying to protect someone else? And Lex! When did he become so much like…so much like…me," he finished in quiet realization. "Lex would destroy me just as thoroughly as I did my own parents. He didn't even know his grandparents names until Lillian was pregnant with Julian and the two of them went through some family-history obsession.

Despite everything, Lionel had never wanted Lex to be a carbon copy of him. He certainly never wanted to die at his son's hand, but he had also never wanted Lex to be capable of killing him. He might need to…rethink some things that might add to Lex's motivation to do so.

"After everything…he kills me because he's too blind to see after all these years that his best friend is the Traveler he's looking for?" Lionel whispered hollowly. Shaking his head in sheer disbelief he looked up at the Dementor. "This can't happen. I don't know what led up to this point, but this can't be the future. Not for me, Lex, Clark…it just can't happen."  
Shaking his head desolately, Lionel shut his eyes and continued to insist, "No, this just can't happen, no…"

Eventually, Lionel opened his eyes again and found himself standing in the kitchen. It was morning and one of the cooks had just turned on the light and was staring at him apprehensively.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, Mr. Luthor," he said stammered.

Lionel just waved him off and went to go look up the address of that plant manager who had the far-too-perceptive daughter. Sullivan, that was his name.  
Here was to hoping he'd remember that name once he reached their house.

\- -

"M-Mr. Luthor," Sullivan was surprised to see him, to say the least. "I-I didn't expect you."

"Of course you didn't," Lionel said pleasantly. "I didn't inform you I'd be coming. I just stopped by to see how that report is coming along. Remember, eight o'clock tomorrow."  
It was somewhat amusing to watch all of the color drain out of Sullivan's face.

"Hey, Dad, who is it?" Chloe – for Lionel didn't have any trouble remembering her name, probably because she, at least, had a backbone – asked as she came up behind him.

"YOU." It was remarkable, really, how much menace she could put into that one word.

"Miss Sullivan, I presume?" Lionel asked in that same pleasant tone.

"Indeed, Mr. Luthor. Is there a reason you're harassing one of your son's employees on Christmas?" she asked sweetly.

"I initially came to make sure that your father was putting together a report for me-" Lionel began.

"On Christmas?" Chloe clearly wasn't reacting to the news when he was giving it than when her father was.

"Yes, yes, on Christmas. But then I had an epiphany. Christmas is a time for family-"

Chloe snorted, interrupting him AGAIN. No one aside from his son ever had that much gumption, and sometimes not even Lex.

"And as such, I decided that this day would better be spent harassing my son instead of his employees," Lionel concluded.

"Then why are you here?" Chloe challenged. She shifted and Lionel could make out that Asian girl who was apparently staying with them, Nell Potter's niece, he believed, standing rooted to the spot, petrified by the way the blonde was talking to him. Smart girl. And consequentially not worth his time.

"How fond are you of your friend Clark's father?" Lionel asked innocently.

"Why?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"Alexander has mentioned that he will be at the Kent farm today and should I show up alone, Jonathan will probably prove to be a little…trigger-happy, shall we say."

"And what does this have to do with you being here?" Chloe pressed.

"I have an ultimatum for you: Either watch me leave here and go to the Kent farm, get assaulted and possibly killed by Jonathan, watch him spend the rest of his life in prison and see how that destroys his wife and son or…" Lionel smiled. "Help me invade their Christmas."

"Let Mr. Kent get arrested, spend Christmas with Clark," Chloe said, as though actually considering. "Let you get yourself killed, spend Christmas with Clark…" She grinned. "What are we waiting for?"

\- -

Sullivan, who was still terrified of him, and Nell's niece, who also seemed excited to spend Christmas with the Kents, were easily convinced and soon enough the four of them were pulling up to the farm. Lex's car was already there and Lionel let himself fall behind the others in case Jonathan really was armed with that shotgun Lex so enjoyed telling him about in great detail.

Sure enough, the door flew open right as Sullivan was about to knock.

"What are you doing here?" Jonathan demanded, cocking the shotgun he was indeed carrying at Lionel.

"Is it too much to believe that I just wanted to spend Christmas with my son?" Lionel asked innocently.

Despite what he had recently seen of his amazing acting abilities, Jonathan wasn't buying it. "Yes, yes it is. Stay away from my son."

"I'm not here for your son; I'm here for mine," Lionel explained patiently.

"Mr. Kent, do you think maybe you could put the shotgun away? It's making me nervous," Nell's niece said, putting her hand on his arm in an attempt to placate him.

Surprisingly, it seemed to work. Maybe that girl wasn't useless after all if she could make Jonathan Kent lower a shotgun when he was around.

"What? Of course, sorry Lana. Why are you all here?" Jonathan asked, setting his weapon down.

"He told us he wanted to go see Lex and thought that since you own a gun, he might need us around for protection," Chloe told him dryly.

"I…see. Well, would you like to come in?" Kent invited Chloe, Lana, and Sullivan. Lionel, of course, completely ignored the fact that Jonathan didn't want him there and followed the other three in.

"Dad?" Lex said when he saw him, looking up from the sofa he was sat on with Clark. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought it over and decided that you're right: I would much rather spend time with you than Victoria today," Lionel declared, going over to hug his son that wasn't actively trying to murder him. "And I have also decided that I'm going to buy the Daily Planet so that no one forgets me when I die and I plan to alter my will so that if I die by falling from a great height, I'm disinheriting you."

"O…kay," Lex said, clearly confused. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be blind?"

"I was. I got better," was all Lionel had to say on the subject.

"Is your dad feeling alright?" Clark whispered. "He's kind of acting like he's been affected by the meteors."

"Either that or he's high," Lex replied, still staring at him.

"Since Jonathan was so gracious as to invite me in," Lionel said, ignoring the way Jonathan was growling at him, "I've decided to stay for dinner. And after that, we're going to have a long talk."

"Talk?" Lex repeated, warily. "About what?"

Lionel looked meaningfully at the other people in the room (Martha, Jonathan, Sullivan, and Lana immediately headed off to the kitchen once his eyes met theirs while Chloe lingered in the doorway, watching Clark, who hadn't moved) and then leaned in closer to his son. "Among other things, I'm no longer blaming you for Julian."

Lex's eyes widened.

"Huh?" Clark, apparently, could not take a hint to save his life. Something he no doubt got from his father. Or from the fact that he was an alien. "What do you mean-"

"Hey, Clark," Chloe said suddenly, pulling on his arm. "Why don't you go show me that new planet you found last week?"

As Clark reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled away, Lionel couldn't help but smile.

She really was a smart girl. He'd have to remember to hire her. Otherwise, she could be very dangerous.

"Why the sudden change in heart?" Lex asked quietly.

Lionel considered what he was going to tell his son. He certainly wasn't going to mention the fact that if he did nothing to improve their relationship, Lex would surely kill him.  
"Charles Dickens," he said finally.

Lex rolled his eyes.

It was a start.


End file.
